


Memory

by TornThorn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Past Relationship(s), Protective Eliot Spencer, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Team as Family, past Damien Moreau/Eliot Spencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TornThorn/pseuds/TornThorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>…he heard every word Damien didn't speak aloud. Each jab at what they'd been, each sly offer to return to that spot at the man's side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory

If there was one thing Eliot would always be grateful for, it was that only Hardison was around for that first conversation with Damien in, god, years. And that the tech geek was so thrown by Eliot giving his real name, by how familiar he was with the "financier" that he missed the underlying conversation.

Eliot, though, he heard every word Damien didn't speak aloud. Each jab at what they'd been, each sly offer to return to that spot at the man's side.

Back in the day, he didn't just work with Moreau, it was more than that. It was something he never wanted to explain. It was why he had thrown so many of his morals out the window, and then set them on fire. Damien had been more than an employer. He'd been the one person Eliot could rely on, so long as the hitter remained loyal. No matter how much time passed, there would always be a part of him that looked back on their very first interaction, a tiny café in Belgrade, and feel a rush of relief, of hope, of security, when Damien's voice laid out their deal.

_ "You were double-crossed, weren't you?" _

_ "You could say that. My team… we got sent into places no one was supposed to be, black ops. We knew if we got caught, we wouldn't get claimed, we'd be condemned. But someone- someone wanted us gone. Someone thought we saw something, or knew too much, I still don't- I still don't know who, or why." _

_ "And you?" _

_ "I got out. I was the only one. So I'll work for you, but…" _

_ "Mr. Spencer- Eliot, I pride myself on recognizing assets. You, I think, could be more than that. You have the potential for the type of loyalty that can build and destroy empires, I can see that much. And I will make you a promise that I will never betray you. I want you on my side. I'll have a contract drawn up, ironclad, with specifics. And should I ever break that contract, you will be within your rights to tear down everything I have built. I want that loyalty. And I will help you find whoever ordered the deaths of your team, and we will destroy them." _

_ "You do that, and I'll sign anything you put in front of me." _

It had been another life, and he'd been another person. But they'd gone from allies, constantly testing one another, to friends, partners in crime, each move on the chessboard planned and taken together-

(Lovers.)

If the team (The one he had now. The one that contained the closest people he had left to family. The one he would do  _ anything _ to protect from the fate of his last real team.) figured it out-

He couldn't think of that.

And with each step he took, each move Nate made to strip Damien of his power and wealth and protection, there was a piece of Eliot he had long-since buried that was screaming. How could he? How could he do this to  _ Damien _ ?

Because his family was worth anything. He put himself back in Damien's eye line for them. He admitted (a part of) the truth for them. He picked up a pair of guns again in that warehouse for them.

This choice came down to Damien or the team, and that stupid kid from years ago, reeling and hurt and so desperate for anyone that he hitched his wagon to the worst man he'd known in all his life, might have chosen differently. The Eliot Spencer of now couldn't, wouldn't. Sophie and Nate, but especially Parker and Hardison. They were his touchstone, they were his foundation. And next to that, Damien was just a bad memory with claws.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my FFnet account in the drabble collection "Dinner".


End file.
